


Ficlets

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s08e22 Clip Show, Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a place to put ficlets as I do them! Rated Explicit because a few chapters probably will be (#13 for sure)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Popcorn

Dean rounded the corner from the kitchen, slammed something on the table in front of Castiel, and sat down at the table with a thud.

Looking down, Cas investigated the object. It seemed to be a large metal balloon filled with air. Heat radiated from it, along with the smell of butter.

He turned to Dean. Perhaps this offering meant the human was no longer angry. "What's this, Dean?"

Dean ignored him, eyes focused on the projector.

Sam signed and spoke up. "It's popcorn, Cas. Traditional for watching movies." Ah. He knew about popcorn, though this packaging was not something he had seen.

Cas reached out and pulled at the foil, exposing the snack. The white, fluffy kernels steamed.

"Thank you, Dean," he said, looking at Dean and sending a tentative smile his way.

Dean snorted and started the tape. As the footage began to roll, he muttered, "Just eat your damn snack."

Something relaxed in Cas's chest, and he reached in to try a bite. Maybe he would eventually have Dean's forgiveness.


	2. 8.23 coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just needed to write something to make myself feel a little better about the end of 8.23. Unbeta'd, so sorry for any errors (and feel free to point them out!)

"Hey, you hear that?" Dean asked, glancing around the library.

"Hear what?" Sam marked his place in the text with a finger and looked up.

Kevin tore his eyes from the tablet, narrowing his eyes. "Is someone... knocking?"

Dean stood. "I'm gonna go check it out. You two stay put."

Sam and Kevin exchanged glances, sighing. It had been three weeks since the angels fell, and Dean hadn't stopped jumping at every sign that might lead them to Cas. He was conviced that the angel was alive and searching for them, lost somewhere and unable make it back. Sam and Kevin weren't so sure. But this was Cas, who had died almost as many times as Dean had: if anyone could survive a confrontation in Heaven and the failure of the trials, it was Castiel.

As Dean rounded the corner to the entrance hall, the knocks started to fade even as he begins to jog. Finally reaching the door, he yanked it open to find-

Nothing.

He stared out at the empty, rain-soaked road, heart thumping in his throat. Where was Cas? He had thought for sure this time-

Something brushed against his ankle and he started, looking down.

A hand rested on his pant leg, clad in a rain-soaked, ragged overcoat. Hs eyes traveled up it to a shoulder pressed against the wall of the bunker, nearly hidden from view by the heavy concrete doorframe.

His heart stuttering, he continued to sweep his eyes upwards until they caught on a familiar blue gaze, earnest, hopeful and heart-wrenchingly sad all at once.

"Cas!" Dean dropped to his knees in front of the angel (former angel?) and examined him closely. Cas was thin, ragged and dirty. He'd grown a thick tuft of beard that reminded Dean of the Cas he'd known in Purgatory.

In fact, most of Cas reminded Dean of Purgatory right now: the most prominent, his smell. Yes, Cas was definitely more human than usual- and definitely hadn't showered in a while.

Regardless of the dirt and the beard and the smell and the humanity, this was still Dean's Cas. Leaning forward, he pulled the unresisting man into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around Cas's shoulders and pulling him close. "I missed you, you son of a bitch," he choked out.

Slowly, Cas's arms raised to rest loosely against Dean's hips. He was shaking slightly, and Dan could feel just how skinny he was even through the coat. Pressing his face into the shoulder of the trenchcoat, Dean took a moment to convince himself this moment was real, that Cas had found him, that maybe things were looking up.

He pulled away slightly and slipped an arm around Cas's waist, pulling him against his side. "Let's get you inside, all right?"

"Dean, I-" Cas faltered. "I fell. They took my grace." Hs trembling increased.

Dean pulled him closer against his side. "I know, Cas. I'm sorry." His hand, he noticed distantly, had started drifting up and down Cas's side, as if calming an animal. "We'll figure it out. But we gotta get out of the rain first, okay?"

As they crossed the threshold, Cas shivered, knees bucking slightly. Dean paused. "You okay, Cas?"

The angel took a deep breath and shuddered. "I no longer have my grace, but I can still feel the wards on this place. Angels are not meant to be here, and the sign you made with my name has faded." He smiled, but it wasn't a smile Dean had seen before: this smile was an ugly thing, filled with pain. "But I suppose that doesn't include me any more."

Dean shook his head. "Hey, hey, no. You're still an angel, just kinda... powered down for a while. We'll get it figured out."

Cas was silent, but slumped against him and let Dean guide him further into the bunker. As they reached the library, Sam caught sight of them and jumped up, hurrying towards them, Kevin just a beat behind. "Cas?!" He reached out and Cas flinched back from the sound and the touch, stumbling against Dean.

Sam stepped back and raised his hands. In a quieter voice, he asked, "how is he?"

"How do you think he is, Sam? He's not doing so good." Dean maneuvered around Sam, half carrying a faltering Cas. His own room was the closest to the entrance and without a thought he dumped Cas onto his own bed. Filthy rainwater ran off Cas's body into the sheets and Dean winced, grabbing a towel and wedging it under his prone friend to soak up some of the liquid.

Cas didn't react, letting Dean move him around, limp as a rag doll. Hs eyes were closed, but the furrow between his eyes remained.

Dean pulled Cas into a seated position, sliding behind him to hold him upright and wrapping an arm around his chest. He dragged the trenchcoat and suit jacket off, dropping them on the floor. Grabbing a stack of towels, he wrapped one around Cas's shoulders and briskly rubbed his hair with another. Cas leaned into the touch, eyes closed.

"Cas?"

Cas cracked an eye open hazily. "Oh. Hello, Dean."

Dean couldn't help smiling a little as he replied. "Hey buddy. How you feeling?"

Cas frowned. "I'm tired, hungry, wet and very, very human, Dean. How do you think I feel?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I know." Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think you can make it to the shower, or do you just want to sleep? Or I could make you something to eat? Soup, maybe?"

Cas continued to stare blearily at him for a moment, then shook himself slightly. "I think sleep might be best." He slid down a little until his head was pillowed on Dean's lap. His eyes closed and his body relaxed slightly against Dean.

Dean knew that being human was going to be a hard adjustment for Cas. Obviously it was. To go from something so powerful to something so limited- Dean couldn't begin to imagine what that would be like.

He glanced down. Cas's head rested on his thigh, and Dean reached out a tentative hand to stroke through his damp hair. Cas shifted, an arm coming up to wrap around Dean's hips, and pulled his legs up the bed to curl against Dean's knees. Reaching down, Dean pulled off Cas's shoes and kicked off his own, then sat back against the headboard, hand buried in Cas's hair.

Cas was here. He'd found them. And now Dean could be the one to watch out for Cas- hell, he was channeling Cas at his weirdest just sitting here watching him sleep. But watching him settle into unconsciousness, looking small and damp and vulnerable, he thought maybe he got why Cas had insisted on standing on guard while he slept. Because being able to see Cas, knowing that if something came for him at least Dean was ready? That was comforting.

For the first time since the angels fell, Dean felt like he was home.

 


	3. It's the Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris wanted Cas with a pet. This was the best I could do.

[ ](http://i.imgur.com/5GJOiN0.jpg)

The first time it happens, it's a rabbit.

Dean steps out of the bunker and finds Cas crouched on the ground a few feet into the forest. He opens his mouth to ask what's going on, and Cas holds up a finger and shushes him quietly.

That's when Dean sees it.

It's the tiniest rabbit he's ever seen– no bigger than the size of his fist, ears flat against its head and nose quivering. One of its paws drags awkwardly behind it as it tries to hop sideways, and it stumbles.

Cas makes a quiet, soothing noise, reaching out a hand.

The rabbit watches carefully, ready to leap at any moment, but Cas continues his slow motion forward.

Dean leans against the doorframe, smiling, as Cas makes contact, stoking a finger down the shaking animal's back. He reaches the other hand around slowly, scooping it up in a palm and standing.

As he turns towards the door, he pulls the rabbit close to his chest with both hands, staring at it and supporting its injured leg with a gentle finger.

He turns wide eyes on Dean. 

Dean doesn't even need to ask what Cas wants– it's obvious from his face and the way he's holding the animal almost lovingly against his shirt. Wordlessly, Dean holds open the door and ushers Cas inside with a palm on the small of his back.

He's sure they have some books on veterinary medicine around here somewhere.

(img source: http://i.imgur.com/5GJOiN0.jpg)


	4. Green Eyes

The first thing Cas notices when he opens his eyes as a human is how dim everything is. He can't see the glowing centers of human souls or the threads of gold and copper and green running through plantlife or the silver shine of time as it slips by.

Instead he sees hard lines, cold, dark shapes and faces whose movements have no meaning for him without the pulse of emotion behind them.

And then Dean turns to him, looks him in the eye for the first time since he fell and Cas suddenly remembers the blinding glow of Dean's soul. He can see it shimmering in his eyes and pulsing beneath his skin, barely contained and beautiful, and he knows things are going to get better.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time Cas tries to cook as a human, he nearly burns down the bunker (or so Dean claims–Cas argues that as the bunker is made of cement, it’s difficult to burn it down. Dean retorts that if anyone could, it would be Cas).

The second time, he gets frustrated by human fingers and human tools and human restrictions on acquiring ingredients. As an angel he’d made Sam and Dean sandwiches with the finest ingredients from around the world; now he’s limited to what’s stocked in the ShopRite a few towns over. He throws down his wilting iceburg and canned tomatoes and storms outside, leaving Dean to finish the meal for the evening.

The third time he tries to cook, he’s prepared. It’s been a few months since his last attempt, and he’s discovered that the bunker has a sunlit patch of dark brown earth behind it, just waiting to be turned and planted. He’s also discovered that high quality perishables can be found and purchased on the internet, and that many things can be made from scratch instead of bought packaged.

So when Sam and Dean come home from an all-day hunt that Dean told Cas he wasn’t ready for, the table’s set with hand-made pasta and tomato sauce made from fresh garden tomatoes.

The look on Dean’s face as he takes a bite is worth the moths of frustration and toil.  
And when Dean slides up next to him and takes wet dishes to dry, shoulder bumping Cas’s and eyes crinkling with happiness, Cas is content.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Cas likes to wander in the woods sometimes, especially when the weather’s nice and there’s a breeze blowing through the trees. He’ll pull on a pair of shorts and a tee and jog off into the underbrush, stopping to examine trees and bushes and insects along the way.

Of course, he’s not used to the vulnerability that comes with being human. So when Dean notices him scratching his legs and frowning one night after dinner, he plops down beside him to get a closer look.

Cas’s leg is covered in a rash Dean recognizes instantly.

"Hey, Cas?" he asks, capturing the former angel’s wrists as he raches to scratch again.

Cas makes a frustrated noise, pulling against Dean’s grip.

"You can’t scratch that, man. It’s poison ivy." He stands, pulling Cas upright with him. “C’mon."

He pulls Cas to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub, releasing him to rifle through the cabinets until he finds a pink bottle and crouches down with it at Cas’s knees.

"You gotta take care of yourself, Cas." He pops the cap with a thumb. “I’ll take you out tomorrow and point it out so you can avoid it next time, all right?"

Cas sighs. “I hate this." He crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head back, closing his eyes.

Dean hesitates, then squirts a dollop of lotion on his fingers, rubbing it into Cas’s rash. “I know, buddy. Being human sucks. I’m sorry you’re stuck here with us."

A hand grips his shoulder and blue eyes appear inches from Dean’s face. “I’m happy to be with you, Dean. Don’t ever think otherwise." His hand slides up to cup Dean’s neck, thumb brushing his hairline. 

"Yeah?"

Cas smiles and presses a kiss to Dean’s lips. “Yes."


	7. Chapter 7

Between the bunker and the forest behind it is a small field, just about the size of a suburban lawn, and somewhere in the depths of the bunker Dean found a hammock to set up in the sun.

The first few weeks of summer it sits there, empty and swaying, while Dean deals with a battered brother and a world suddenly filled with fallen angels.  
Another few weeks pass without it when Cas appears suddenly in the bunker, filthy and exhausted, and Dean feeds him and patches him up while Sam teaches him about human requirements like showers and shoes and toast.

Then there’s a ghost in Milwaukee and a wendigo in Detroit and a vampire in Omaha and suddenly it’s August and the hammock’s still swaying in the breeze, forlorn.

Then suddenly things are calm, for once. The angels wandering in have slowed to a trickle, just one a week or so, and Sam is finally gaining weight and color in his cheeks.

So one afternoon, after the ridge is restocked and the laundry done, Dean finds himself in the yard, staring at the hammock.

Soft footfalls pad up behind him, and he doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Cas.  
"This place is beautiful, Dean."

Dean nods. “Gonna try out the hammock, finally. You want to join me?"

Cas steps forward and sits carefully on the net, rolling and scooting until he’s laying flat in the hammock and Dean follows. 

The tension in the ropes pushes them together as the bouncing settles and Dean finds himself laying on his back with Cas sprawled across his chest, head on Dean’s shoulder.  
He thinks about pushing him away, making a joke about personal space, whatever, but–  
Cas is comfortable, a warm mass between Dean and the cooling air. His hair is soft against Dean’s cheek and honestly, there’s nothing Dean would change about this afternoon.  
He pulls the fallen angel closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Yeah. Today’s a good day.


	8. Chapter 8

It starts with a cup of coffee.

Dean’s sitting in the kitchen one morning, sipping slowly. He didn’t sleep well— dreams of angels falling from the skies and Sam’s pale face kept waking him in a cold sweat. But now he’s in his clean, orderly kitchen with his fancy coffee from the machine they found in a closet and he’s not going to think about his problems. All he’s gonna think about is this delicious cup of coffee, and—

Something is knocking on the door.

Dean jumps up, setting his cup down with a thump, and sprints to the door, showing a gun in his robe pocket and gripping a knife tightly.

The outer door is still closed firmly, and he looks through the peephole— nothing.

He waits a few moments, checking the salt line above the doorframe and the holy water mister Kevin had rigged up, then steps back and swings it open, gun out and safety off. A soft thump sounds in front of him and he glances down to see—

Cas.

The angel’s unconscious and filthy, covered in dirt and leaves and what might be blood. His trenchcoat is ripped and his pant cuffs are ragged, and Dean kneels down beside him, eyes wide, and before he knows what’s happened he’s wrapped him in his arms and pulled him tightly into an embrace.

Cas rouses slightly, letting out a whimper and pressing his face into Dean’s shirt. His hands are clenching in the fabric of Dean’s robe and his eyes flutter open.

"Dean." His voice is hoarse, quiet in the empty stillness of the bunker, and his whisper of Dean’s name sounds like a prayer.

"Cas." Dean replies, not sure what else to say. “You’re home."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some super shmoopy kid!fic-ish thing for nestingdean on her BIRTHDAY!

It’s been a long time since Dean’s held a kid this small.

It’s been a rough hunt, and the family barely pulled through with their lives. One mom is headed to the hospital with a broken leg while the other is recovering from a moderate concussion and waiting to give a statement to the police. Sam had volunteered them to watch the kids until Melanie can make it back from the station, then had promptly fallen asleep in the older kid’s room. Peering into the door, Dean sees his massive brother crammed into a five-foot-long bed. On top of him, curled on a ball with a hand fisted in Sam’s ridiculous hand, is five-year-old Tyler.

Maya coos against Dean’s chest, burying her face in his neck, and he glances down at the toddler in his arms. She’d had a long night, filled with things that would terrify someone of any age, be she’s content to doze in the arms of a near stranger.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and a low voice whispers in his ear. “Is she asleep?"

He turns to Cas and smiles. “They all are." He points his chin in the other room. Cas follows his gaze and smiles. 

"Sam’s made a friend, I take it."

"Yeah."

Cas watches the little girl on Dean’s chest, something unreadable in his eyes.

"What’s up, Cas?" Dean’s been trying to reach out more when Cas looks unsettled, hoping to make sure Cas doesn’t feel alone again the way he did when he teamed up with Crowley.

Cas sighs, eyes raising to meet Dean’s. “You look very natural, holding children."

Dean smiles softly down at the small head on his shoulder. “I remember when Sammy looked like this. He was a lot fussier, though." His tone is fond. “Basically raised him from when he was smaller than this."

Cas nods. “You did a wonderful job. He’s a good man." He looks at Dean again, eyes lingering. “You are as well."

Dean feels his cheeks heating. “Thanks, Cas. That, uh, that means a lot." He looks down at Maya, who’s waking up slowly and blinking, small fists clenching. “You wanna hold her?"

Cas looks uncertain. “You don’t think she’d mind?"

Dean laughs. “Mind? Dude, she  _loved_  you. She kept staring at you all night!"

"All right." Cas looks nervous and Dean gently pulls Maya’s hands from his collar, stepping close to Cas and setting her in the former angel’s outstretched arms. She blinks up at them, looking from one to the other, and burrows into Cas’s shoulder instead. Cas smiles at her, then at Dean, looking happier than Dean’s seen in a long time, and Dean can’t help but kiss him gently.

Cas’s eyes widen and he freezes, then lets out a soft sigh and returns the kiss quickly. Dean wraps an arm around Cas’s shoulder and leads him to the couch, sitting carefully so as not to wake the once-again sleeping kid.

They’d talk about the kiss later, he figured, but somehow he thinks it wasn’t really a surprise to either of them.

—-

A few hours later, Melanie and Joan return home. Joan’s in a cast, trying to navigate the steps on crutches, and Mel’s seeing at least double, but somehow they make it inside. Their house is safe again, no ghosts or spirits or anything to bother them or their children. They both pause in the doorway to the living room and smile at each other at the sight of two of their rescuers looking less like fierce hunters of the paranormal and more like two tired dads with their kid.

"Should we leave them there?" asks Mel, looking at her wife.

"I’m not risking waking Maya," Joan replies, grinning, and they sneak past as quietly as they can.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tracy/earthdragon1, who needed some sad Dean getting comforted.

Some days, it’s all just too much for Dean.

Some days, just thinking about Sam being sick and sad and willing to sacrifice himself for humanity again makes his heart feel like it’s going to drop out of his chest.

Some days, thinking about how Cas is human and cast from his home and hated by all of his brothers and sisters makes him have to sit down, head in his hands.

Some days, thinking about Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Dad and Mom and everyone they’ve lost in their lives is enough to drive him into his room to curl up under a blanket in the dark, unable or unwilling to come out.

Sometimes it’s enough to make sobs wrack his body, deep, silent waves of anguish that break through every barrier he’s put up in his mind.

He shudders, arms around his chest and face turned into the quickly soaking pillow, and weeps until he falls into a restless, exhausted sleep that never leaves him feeling better in the morning.

Today is one of those days.

They’ve been frantically searching for solutions, but there’s just so much going on and things feel like they’re slipping through Dean’s fingers.

Sam’s not getting any better; his hollow cheeks and pallor haunt Dean and he can hear his coughs echoing through the bunker no matter where he is or how hard he covers his ears with his pillow.

Cas is a shadow, drifting through the bunker with blank eyes and quiet, padding footsteps. He’s learning to be human slowly, no interest in anything beyond the most basic necessities.

Kevin stays in his room most days, finally getting the time to mourn the loss of his mother, his girlfriend, his future and plan.

And Crowley’s in the basement, slipping back from his half-human state just a little each day.

Dean can’t do it all. Can’t fix it all. And today he just needs to step away from it all and let out the stress and the pain and the frustration and grief he’s feeling.

But this time is different.

The door creaks open and a sliver of light cuts across the bed. Dean curls in tighter, rolling away from the door and the intruder, but a moment later the bed dips behind him and a hand brushes over his shoulder.

Through his haze of tears he feels its warmth and smells the ozone and honey smell of Cas, a relic of his angelic past. But he’s too deep in it to react, to hide his tears, to pull up the walls and batten the hatches of his soul.

The warm hand pulls away and he leans towards it as much as he can without pulling his face from the sopping pillow, but it’s replaced quickly by a body sliding beneath the blankets and pressing behind him, arms wrapping across his waist.

"Dean," whispers Cas. “I understand."

And the weird thing is, he does.

Dean rolls over, pressing his face to Cas’s shoulder and clutching him close.

In the morning, this might be weird. Guys don’t do this. Guys don’t hold their friends close and stroke their hair and their back, rocking them gently. They don’t let other men soak their shirts with tears and snot or clasp them tightly in their arms to quell their shaking.

But right now? Right now it’s everything Dean needs. He’s safe, he’s loved, and everything else? Everything else will still be there in the morning to figure out.


	11. Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prayer fic for anythingtoasted!

"Cas, I hope you're doing okay up there. We're getting stuff figured out down here; you know we got this bunker now, and I'd like to show you around. So, uh, come visit soon, all right? I miss-- I mean, we miss you. I, uh, I have some stuff I want to talk to you about, all right?"

\-----

"Hey Cas. Wish you’d let me know that you’re all right. I miss you, buddy. I’m a big enough guy to admit that. You fucked up, yeah, but we both did, and I miss you. I just wanna know you’re okay. Oh, by the way, we came across some weird shit in the basement today. I want to show you this book we found. It’s about Gabriel and man, I dunno if you know what he was up to while he was playing Loki but apparently it involved horses. And he may have given birth at some point. Your family is strange as hell, you know that right? You’re the only one I want on my team, that’s for sure. Just— come visit, all right? I need you here, Cas. With me."

\-----

"Cas, fuck, I love you, all right? I do. I can’t keep praying to you like this and not tell you. I just— I fucking love you and I think you might be dead. Or maybe you just don’t want to see me, I don’t know. But I just wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know. So— now you know. If you’re there. If you’re listening."

\-----

"Cas, a psychic today said there was someone watching me, someone I cared about, someone who wanted to see me who couldn’t. She said he couldn’t come yet back to me yet, but that he wanted to, real badly. I hope that’s you she’s talking about, Cas. You’re the only one I want here with me. I miss you."

\-----

"Cas, I don’t even care that you’re a in dude, you know that, right? It’s not just that you’re my friend, or that you’re helpful or a tool or any of that shit. That’s not why I want you to come back. I think about you all the time, Cas. All the time. I think about you when I’m cooking and I want you to try it, and when I’m trying to fall asleep and I wish you were there. And— and other times, too. So come home, Cas. Please."

\-----

"Cas, I— fuck— I wish this was your hand around my cock instead of mine— I want you inside me, I want to touch you. Cas, please— ah, please come back. I’ll show you — I’ll show you everything. I’ll teach you how good it can be to be almost human, or— oh, god— or whatever you want. Cas, fuck, Cas!"

"Hello, Dean."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little thing for deanhugchester :)

Dean's warm and comfortable, wrapped up in sleep and warmth and something resting just tightly enough around his waist to keep him comfortable. He shifts a little as he wakes, trying to burrow deeper into the warm cocoon around him, and then starts awake suddenly when it murmurs at him, "mmm, stay there, Dean. 's early." He freezes.

The warm thing? It's a person. And then the evening comes flooding back to him: having a beer on the couch, talking about Cas's new humanity, Cas admitting to trouble sleeping and nightmares, and Dean hesitating, then saying, “You know, sometimes I have nightmares,too. Sometimes all you need is someone to remind you it’s not real.” Cas had nodded, looking down at his hands, and they’d moved on to other topics. But a few hours later, in the middle of the night, Dean had awoken to a knock on his door and a tousled head silhouetted in the doorway.

“Cas?” He’d asked, still mostly asleep. Cas had just stood there, still except for the movement of his chest as he breathed quickly, staring at Dean with need in his eyes. Dean had understood then, remember their conversation, and had opened his arms silently. Cas had stepped forward, slid under the covers and curled up against him.

“It’ll be all right,” Dean had whispered. “We’re gonna be all right, you and me.”

They’d fallen asleep like that, together, Dean murmuring into Cas's hair and rocking him gently as he shook from the nightmare.

Now in the morning, Dean thinks about panicking and pushing away, but he’s warm, and he’s sleepy, and instead he just snuggles even closer and closes his eyes again. This is all right. They're gonna be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some askbox smut for rexbutt.

Cas lies flat on the bed, wrists fixed to the headboard and toes clenching, as Dean works his way up his thighs. He can't help but let out a whimper as Dean nuzzles the back of a thigh, and Dean whispers, "nuh uh, Cas, gotta keep quiet, all right? Don't move, or I'll stop." 

A broken noise leaks from Cas's throat, but he shuts his lips, muscles cording along his neck and arms as he gripped the bindings tighter. Dean's mouth is skirting the crease of Cas's thigh, now, lapping at where Cas's thigh meets the swell of his ass, and Cas can't hold in another moan. 

Dean pulls back, a filthy grin on his face, and pulls a tie from the pile of clothing strewn next to the bed. "Gonna make sure you keep quiet. Can't have anyone hearing you, can we?" He crawls over Cas on his hands and knees, stomach brushing the tip of Cas's leaking cock just lightly enough that Cas shudders and tries to thrust, but Dean pulls away and quickly fastens the tie around Cas's mouth. "There we go." He focuses on the former angel's neck and shoulder, now, nipping at the taut muscles and sliding down to a nipple, rolling it on his tongue as Cas thrashes, abandoning all hope of keeping still. Dean smiles against Cas's sternum, letting his tongue trace a lazy path down Cas's stomach until he's inches from the base of Cas's cock. "Is this where you want me, Cas?" He glances up into wild blue eyes. "Want me to suck your cock?" 

Cas's eyes narrow above the makeshift gag and Dean can almost hear his low voice saying " _Yes, Dean. Obviously_." He grins again, raising up on his elbows and letting his tongue sweep over the slick head of Cas's cock. Cas shoves his hips upward and Dean presses them back down with a forearm across his thighs. 

"I'm in charge this time, Cas. Let me." He pauses for a moment, enjoying the sight above him, then swallows Cas's cock in one smooth movement, nose burying in thick hair. 

Cas lets out a strangled noise audible even through the gag. His hips press wildly against Dean's arm, but with his hands tied and his heels off the edge of the bed he can't get the leverage he needs to fight the restraining limb. Dean sucks, hollowing his cheeks as he thrusts his own cock against the mattress below them, and Cas thrashes wildly below the firm arm. Dean can feel Cas twitching against his tongue  and he reaches his free hand around behind Cas's thighs to caress his balls and press the pad of his finger to Cas's hole. Cas tenses even further, body arching off the bed, and comes with a muffled shout down Dean's throat. Dean licks him clean, sliding slowly up and down his shaft as his works himself, until a whimper tells him Cas is too sensitive. He pulls off and kneels above Cas's thighs, eyes locked on Cas's, stroking himself quickly and letting his precome smooth the way until he comes with a groan and a warm splash on Cas's still-twitching abdomen.

He reaches up to undo the gag and wrist bindings, and stares into Cas's stunned face. "You like that?" The former angel nods shakily, pupils still wide and mouth open and panting, and reaches an arm down to urge Dean upwards for a kiss. Dean goes willingly, leaning into the embrace and letting Cas kiss him lazily.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some welcome-home PWP.

Cas discovers masturbation quite by accident. 

He knows about it in theory, of course: he's watched humans long enough to not be surprised by much that they do. But it's not until he's fallen, bundled into the bunker by Sam and sent to the shower with gruff orders from Dean, that he gains any practical experience.

He's rubbing soap over his chest and stomach, moving slowly and methodically downwards, when his hand brushes his cock without any conscious direction from his brain. He's just thinking idly of how good it is to see Dean and how it felt to have Dean's arms around him in a hug when suddenly his knuckles brush down his crotch on the way to wash his legs. He lets out a short gasp as pleasure rushes through him, and he totters, bracing himself on the wall and staring down at his hand in amazement. 

He'd always thought it would be pleasant, touching himself, but hadn't ever had the time or inclination to explore it further. But if just brushing against his genitals like that could feel so good, he can't even imagine what a full stroke would feel like. He hesitates a moment before deciding that if he's going to be human, he'd better do it right and gripping his shaft firmly in one wet hand. He strokes downward, root to tip, and this time his knees shake and he needs to lean back against the shower wall completely. The cold tile is a stark contrast to the hot steam, and Dean's warm smile floats up in his mind unbidden. The surprise and joy he'd shown when Cas had been standing on the other side of the door had been startling and welcome, as had the desperate hug he'd pulled Cas into. He thinks about those arms that had held him tight, the smell of leather and flannel and pie, and he moans out loud. His hand is moving faster now, breath coming in pants that don't quite form the name Dean on his lips, and his head is thrown back against the wall. 

Suddenly the door opens with a creak and there's a thunk of towels hitting the floor. Cas opens his eyes to meet Dean's, staring at his hand. But he can't stop, doesn't stop, and when he comes he knees do buckle and he slides down the wall as come splashes warm on his belly. Dean blinks at him, cheeks flushed, tenting his pants, and Cas just gives him a slow, lazy smile. "Join me?" he asks, still stroking, and Dean steps forward, face still pink and shocked. He pulls off his own jeans and shirt, stepping out of them as if in a trance, and Cas holds out his free hand and pulls him under the spray.

Dean's hard already, precome beading at the tip of his cock, and Cas pulls him even closer until they're just inches apart. The hand that's stroking his own cock is close enough to Dean's that it brushes the head on each pass, and when Dean reaches down and grips himself Cas lets out a groan at the sight. 

Dean starts slow, holding lightly, then speeds a little at a time. His head falls on Cas's shoulder and he nuzzles in, hot breath on Cas's neck.

They don't speak–somehow, they know they'll be time for that later. Instead they just crowd closer, feet slipping on the wet tile until they're pressed together, one of Dean's between Cas's. There's no sound but the wet slap of flesh on flesh and the whimpering moans from each of them as Cas's hips start fucking into his fist and Dean reaches around to palm Cas's ass.

Cas is close, panting on every stroke, eyelids fluttering, and Dean lifts his head enough to whisper, "Come on, Cas," and that's it, he comes with a shudder across Dean's hand.

It's just a few frantic strokes for Dean to follow, knees nearly collapsing as he shoots streaks on Cas's belly.

They breathe harshly together for a moment, spray washing the come and sweat down the drain, and Dean opens his eyes to meet Cas's. Slowly, carefully, he kisses Cas's lips, hands coming up to rest on the join of his neck and shoulder. He pulls away just millimeters and whispers, "Glad you're home, Cas."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9.06 coda. What happened between leaving Nora's and arriving at the store the next morning?

“Not a date, then.”

“No.”

They’re sitting in the Impala outside Nora’s house, and Dean’s watching Cas.

It hadn’t taken long to clean up the damage the fight had done; just a sponge for the blood and a little glue for the crack in the table. They’d hung the pictures back up and rinsed Cas’s water glass, and dragged Ephraim’s body outside to the trunk to take back to the bunker to bury.

Cas had picked up Tanya, holding her close and humming to her and Dean had watched him, a smile on his face that he couldn’t seem to push down.

Then he’d turned to Dean, a crinkled line between his brows as the baby finally quieted, and whispered, _Does she feel warm to you?_

It had been almost automatic for Dean to take the baby in his arms, rocking her gently and remembering the grasping hands and warm smell of a tiny Sam all those years ago. He’d pressed his fingers to her forehead, feeling the too-warm skin against his own, and handed her back to Cas with whispered words about tylenol and hydration.

There was something about watching Cas whisper to Tanya as he fed her the medication that tugged at Dean’s heart, and that same something’s rolling through him now as they sit just inches apart in the Impala.

Cas is staring out the window, eyes unfocused, and he’s rubbing absently at his wrist. There are bruises blossoming there, dark purple and black in the moonlight, and Dean can’t look away.

This is still new to him, this delicate Cas, this creature of flesh and blood who can be bloodied and battered and maybe even broken. Before he knows it his hand is reaching out, hovering over Cas’s bruised wrist. 

“We should take care of that.” His voice is loud in the too-silent darkness and Cas turns, meeting his eyes for the first time since he left Nora’s yard. “I’ve got a room at a motel nearby.” There’s a question in his voice, but he’s not sure what it is.

Cas just nods, looking down at his wrist and Dean’s hand until Dean pulls away, hesitantly, and puts his hands back on the wheel.

He’s never been like this with Cas. Things have always been easy, or hard, desperate or furious or ecstatic but never– awkward. Stilted. This time it’s him reaching out, him trying for connection, _him_ who’s trying to atone for his mistakes, and it’s– unsettling.

The drive is short, but it feels like an hour, a week, a year. Cas is barely there, still beside him but quiet and small in the moonlight, but Dean takes comfort in the fact that Cas can’t just disappear. Not anymore.

He parks neatly in front of the room, wincing as his sore back strains as he stands, and he fights the urge to hover over Cas as he hauls himself out as well. 

The room is cold, but the lights are bright and the sheets are clean and really, that’s all Dean needs. He gives in this time, puts a hand behind Cas’s elbow and leads him to the bed furthest from the door and sits him down on the side. Dean goes to the bathroom and fills a bowl with water then kneels in front of him, sitting back on his heels, and opens the box of first aid supplies.

Cas winces when Dean takes his wrist in his hand, and Dean whispers _sorry, sorry Cas_ , and runs a gentle thumb up the unbruised side. “He got you good, didn’t he,” he says, just to fill the silence, and Cas’s head bows until his forehead is inches from Dean’s own.

“I suppose he did,” he replies, and his shoulders tense as Dean wets a cloth and wipes it gently across the cuts in his palm.

“That was smart, Cas. Getting your sigil drawn like that.” Dean’s wrapping a bandage around Cas’s palm now, gently, tucking it into itself and resting his hand against Cas’s for maybe a moment too long. “You’d make an awesome hunter.”

Cas smiles a little at this. “Not just a ‘baby in a trenchcoat’?”

“What– no, Cas. No. You’re– you’ve always been–” Dean sighs, pulling out an ace bandage and winding it carefully across the cotton one. “Dude, you’re gonna be a great hunter. You are already.”

Cas sighs and pulls his hand away, resting it on his lap. “Thank you, Dean.” He fingers the bandage.

“You did good, Cas. You didn’t even really need me on this one.”

At this Cas looks up, says quietly, “I always need you, Dean,” and Dean feels like he’s been kicked in the chest.

“I need you too, buddy,” he murmurs, sliding up to sit beside Cas, shoulders pressed together and hips brushing against each other’s. “I really do.”

“Even with no grace and no power?” asks Cas carefully.

Dean nods. “Yeah, Cas.”

“Hm.” Cas looks thoughtful, surprised, and Dean can’t hold himself back any longer.

He slides his arms up and around, awkward, pulling Cas against him and twisting into a tight hug. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into Cas’s shoulder, and Cas slowly, hesitantly, lifts his arms as well until they rest against Dean’s waist, then leans his head down until Dean can feel Cas’s hot breath on his neck. “I wish–” Dean shifts a little, pushing Cas back until they’re both on the bed, backs to the headboard and legs stretched out, Cas’s body curled against his. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Cas sighs, eyelids drooping already and head sagging.

Dean lets him slide downward until his head rests on Dean’s thigh and buries his hand in Cas’s hair, watching over him until the sun peeks through the curtains.


End file.
